A Fierce Storm
by Tallulah99
Summary: What price to pay for defeating the capricious King of the Goblins at his own game? He has no power over her...but he does have power.


**A Fierce Storm**

By: Tallulah

The storm swirled into existence in the space of a thought. Roiling black clouds churned in the heavy wind, darkening skies that had been clear and calm mere moments ago. Blue lightening flashed angrily, illuminating the stark landscape below as sheets of freezing rain soaked the ground to a muddy ruin within seconds.

High in the castle tower a small group of goblins huddled around the window, taking in the raging tempest in wide-eyed silence. Thunder crashed. The sound traveled through the ancient stone passages in a deafening roar until the very foundations trembled under the onslaught. Still the assembled group watched and waited.

As the lightening flared again, a small voice spoke up, breaking the unnerving stillness. "There. There he is."

The rest of the group craned forward, peering into the blackness for confirmation.

"He is coming." The speaker insisted, shooing them away from the window. "Be on your way. Prepare his chamber and a hot meal. Leezle, don't forget the warmer for the sheets." She turned back to the window, her knotty hands clasped anxiously in front of her. "He'll catch his death in this cold."

"Um, Dru?"

"What is it, Fidwick?" She asked testily, taking her eyes off the blackness outside only briefly to acknowledge the perplexed looking goblin at her side.

"Um…can his majesty catch his death? I mean I didn't think he…"

Dru cast him a sharp look. "Any creature what lives can die, foolish goblin. Now _go_. He'll be angry enough after what that girl…" She trailed off, turning back to the window. "Just go."

Dru stood alone in the darkened room, patiently awaiting the master's return. Her keen eyes following the indistinct shape as it fought through the buffeting wind and rain, coming ever closer despite its erratic path.

He was coming, alright. He was coming and he was angry.

She wondered if he was even aware of his fury in this simple form, if the owl carried the emotions of the man as it traveled the unseen places between the worlds. The thunder crashed again; she supposed it must. Their world existed as a reflection of its king, the storm itself a testament to his rage.

Dru caught only the briefest glimpse of bedraggled white feathers as The King of the Goblins blew into the tower room and immediately transformed.

Fury radiated in waves off of the man standing rigidly before her. He was motionless but for his cloak. Black as the darkness outside, it swirled around him, dancing in the fierce gale of the storm. His pale skin shone pure ivory in the blinding flashes of lightening, his expression feral.

He turned suddenly, bracing his arms wide against the window opening. The muscles in his shoulders bunched under the black silk of his shirt as he pushed heavily against the stone, fair hair streaming behind him as he bowed his head into the driving wind.

Dru felt a flutter of fear, unreasonable though it may be, that he might succeed, that he might send the wall toppling and bring the castle down around them all.

Finally he straightened and turned, the anger unabated, but some of his usual calm restored. His face was smooth now, the mask of indifference shielding the torrent of emotion beneath the serene visage.

"Welcome home, Your Majesty." Dru began hesitantly, stepping forward and dropping into an awkward curtsey. "Your chamber is being readied and the cook is preparing a brief repast. Is there anything…"

"Wine." He said shortly as he brushed past her, boots tapping out a staccato rhythm across the ancient floors.

Dru stared after her master for a moment, trepidation settling in her breast like a cold weight as proof of her king's ire crashed and thundered relentlessly without the castle walls.

This night would prove ill for someone. She scurried away into the gloom hoping fervently that it wouldn't be her.

----

Hours passed as the storm raged on.

The King of the Goblins sat motionless in the dark. He had not bothered to light the rushes that lined the walls of his throne room though the merest thought would have brought the flames roaring into existence. Tonight he preferred the shadows.

At his elbow sat a heavy greenish bottle, its contents black and opaque in the gloom. Barely half of the wine remained. Shattered remnants of similar vessels littered the floor against the far wall, the glittering shards bearing mute testament to the quantity of goblin-made spirits the king had consumed in the hours since his return.

He did not appear drunk. Not a hair was out of place, not a wrinkle marred his garments; his voice did not waver as he called for the captain of the guards, nor did he slur as he gave his orders. Only the excessive gleam in his mismatched eyes gave any indication of his altered state as he settled back on his throne to wait, a cruel smile transforming his handsome features.

Idly, he spun a crystal into existence, resting the glowing sphere in the cradle of his fingertips.

A figure resolved in the depths of the globe – a young girl reposed in slumber. Dark hair spread out across snowy linen, cheeks flushed; the rosebud mouth slightly open as the girl slept the innocent sleep of the young.

"You have cost me much, human child." He said softly, his voice cold and hard as steel. "And I do not take kindly to those who defy me." He brought the crystal in closer, his eyes intent on the scene within.

"Do you know where your friends are now, those misguided fools who so helped you in your time of need? Have you any idea what will become of them thanks to your interference? Surely I did not seem to you the sort of man to let treachery go unpunished, to brush aside disloyalty as if it were nothing – a trifling crime to be forgiven as a matter of course?" He caressed the sphere almost tenderly. "How little you know of my world, Sarah."

The clearing of a throat in the darkness brought him out of his reverie.

A wave of one elegant hand brought flames to life, illuminating the diminutive figure of his captain – the head of the goblin army, or at least what remained of it after the disastrous final stand inside the city gates.

The goblin bowed low, the peak of his visor making a metallic 'clink' as it met the stone floor of the chamber.

"We have them, milord, as you requested. The dwarf and Sir Didymus are in the dungeons below. The beast is tethered in the yard. We await your instructions."

Jareth sat back on his throne, tossing the crystal and its image from hand to hand with effortless fluidity, despite the wine. He looked thoughtful, one slanted eyebrow raised in contemplation.

"And what shall we do with them, Jynx?" he asked almost jovially. "What sort of punishments have my subjects earned for their work this night?"

"As your sire, wishes," Jynx replied guardedly.

"Come, come, Jynx! Surely you have some ideas in that simple brain of yours!" Jareth was expansive, giving the goblin an encouraging smile. "Tell me now, what shall I do? What is the best way to reward my citizens for committing treason against their king? What recompense for flaunting their perfidy in frivolity and merriment, dancing and playing with _that girl_ in the Aboveground, a place where all of my creatures have been specifically forbidden to go? What then is the appropriate remuneration for such a thing?"

Jynx furrowed his brow in confusion, disoriented by his king's apparent cheerfulness. "Uh…sire?"

"What I am looking for here, Jynx," Jareth said coldly, dropping the smile for something more closely resembling a snarl, "is something along the lines of torture, something that involves a significant amount of pain – something that will ensure that those who choose to challenge me only have the opportunity to do so once – something a bit like death perhaps?"

Jynx bowed low. A lifetime of servitude to the capricious king of the goblins had taught him to school his features to blandness regardless of the command.

Jareth scowled down at the little goblin. He drummed his fingers silently on the arms of the throne for a moment. "Is a bit of creativity really too much to ask of you pathetic, sniveling little creatures?" Without waiting for a response, he blew out an irritated sigh and continued, "Fine then. Take Didymus out to the Fell and drop him into the Deep Caverns. We haven't fed the Wernach in weeks. He'll appreciate the snack."

"And the dwarf?"

"Find a convenient oubliette. He will perhaps appreciate some time to meditate on his past…and final mistakes." Redirecting his attention back to the crystal in his hand, Jareth went on. "As for the beast…well, I have always rather fancied a hearth rug in here – liven the place up a bit."

He glanced up to see the captain still standing uncertainly at attention. "Well? Go!"

The clank of ill-fitting armor signaled the captain's withdrawal.

Jareth did not watch him leave. The king had no attention left but for the glowing orb and the figure imprisoned therein as it spun gently in his palm.

The smile returned to his face as he watched the girl slumber – an unpleasant smirk.

"And as for you, my child, you think yourself safe, don't you? You think the Labyrinth defeated and its evil king safely vanquished; is that it?" He gave a low laugh. "Oh, but it is not that _simple_, precious girl. It is true, I cannot visit you in your world again. No – not unless you call me, but there is nothing to prevent me from visiting you in the world between our worlds. The land of dreams is my realm as much as it is yours."

He stroked the globe in his hand with a gloved fingertip, the figure within stirring feverishly in disturbed sleep, moaning silently within the prison of the crystal globe. "And visit you I will, little one. Your nights will be mine. Your very _dreams_ will be mine. No fairy-tale ballroom this time, Sarah," he whispered softly, his voice laced with dark promise. "I have something much more…unique in mind for our next encounter."

Jareth gave the crystal a final spin and allowed it to vanish. A wicked smile spread across the beautiful face as he reclined gracefully on his throne.

Reaching for the remainder of the wine, he held the bottle aloft in a mocking toast. "Perhaps you are right, Sarah. Perhaps it is true that I have no power over you. Nonetheless, you will, I think, come to regret this day's work." Tilting his head back, he upended the bottle and emptied it in one long swallow.

Outside the castle walls, the storm began to abate. The rain slackened and ceased as the last of the winds chased the darkened grey clouds across the sky, leaving the air clean and cold in their wake.

The fury of the Goblin King was lifting. In its stead began to settle a steely resolve, cold determination a terrifying pledge in the hands of the tenacious and eternal Goblin King.

On the other side of dreams, the human child slept on, her mind untroubled and clear, free for now from fear of the oncoming storm.

For now.

A/N: This was written as a response to a drunk!Jareth challenge in the Labyfic LiveJournal community. A wee bit angstier than my normal fare, but it's nice to mix things up a bit from time to time:)


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